


A Warm Place

by highkingmariot



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M, memory versions of Eliot's loved ones, post 4x05, the happy place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 05:49:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17996093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highkingmariot/pseuds/highkingmariot
Summary: Eliot bides his time in his happy place with memories of his family.





	A Warm Place

Smiling softly, Eliot reached out to brush Quentin’s hair back from his face, letting his fingers trail across his temple and letting his hand rest lightly against his cheek. Quentin’s eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled, his hand coming up to cover Eliot’s, holding it against him. Eliot stroked the soft skin of his cheek, and he stroked the back of his hand, and it was… perfect. The perfect quiet moment.

“I wish I could keep you,” he whispered.

Quentin’s smile softened slightly. “You can.”

Letting his eyes slide closed, Eliot took in a deep breath, letting himself drink it all in. Happiness. Christ, he missed being happy. “I wish,” he murmured, and felt Quentin’s hand shift from his, sliding up his arm until it curled around the back of his shoulder, using him as leverage to shift his body closer. Warm lips pressed against his a second later, slightly chapped from the constant exposure to the sun. “I could live in this moment forever.”

Quentin kissed him again, and he melted against him, his hand slipping around the back of his neck, the other arm sliding underneath his head, bending at the elbow to pull him bodily closer. Quentin made a pleased sound against his mouth as he deepened the kiss. “I’m right here,” he said when he finally pulled back to breathe, his lips brushing his with every syllable, and Eliot dropped his forehead to press against his.

“I wish you were.”

After he’d gotten his message to Quentin, he’d wanted nothing more than to try again, to break through, to fight, to do _something_ , but Charlton had convinced him against it. His friends knew that he was alive, and he had to trust that they’d find a way to rid his body of the monster that possessed him.

Knowing that Quentin was fighting for him made it easier.

With nothing else to do, all he wanted was to live in his happy memories, to let himself _feel_ them, but even though he could jump into any memory just by thinking about it as he walked out the front door of the Physical Cottage, every time he ran the risk of coming across one of the creatures living in his mind.

So, he brought those memories to him.

Pulling back, he dropped his hand to Quentin’s chest. This was one of his favourite Quentin’s. Arielle’s brother had taken Teddy for a few days, and they’d given themselves the day off from the mosaic to lie in bed all day. Nothing could make this more perfect.

Except.

Small hands touched at his legs, the mattress dipping slightly, and he pulled back to glance down at the five year old crawling up the bed, squirming his way between him and Quentin. “And me,” he said, his voice almost a whine, and he lifted his arm so Teddy could slip underneath it. His small body curled up with his back against Eliot’s chest, sighing in satisfaction when Quentin’s hand settled on his shoulder, bending down to press a kiss to his mop of hair. When he pulled back, he glanced up at Eliot, and the absolute adoration in Quentin’s eyes made his heart do a flip in his chest.

Something pressed against his shoulder, and he turned his head to see Margo sitting behind him, her back against the headboard of his bed in the Physical Cottage, her elbow leaning on him. She had a strawberry daiquiri in hand, complete with a tiny yellow umbrella and, and she was idly stirring it with a straw. “You better have told him all the good stories about me,” she said, her voice light and her eyes wicked.

His hand slipped around to flatten against Teddy’s stomach, feeling his chest rise and fall as he slept. Was there anything more peaceful in the world than his boy sleeping on him? Glancing over his shoulder again, he found her closing her lips around the straw to take a drink. “Not all of the good stories,” he said with a smirk, and her delighted laughter filled him up.

“Don’t you dare,” Arielle said from Quentin’s other side. She sat on the bed behind him, leaning on one hand while her other threaded gently through Quentin’s hair. Her lips were pressed tightly together, but the light in her eyes gave her away. “At least not until he’s older.”

“Trust me,” Quentin said, looking up at her with a grin. “He’s never going to be old enough for some of the things this one got up to.”

“At least I had a life, instead of keeping my nose in a book the whole time,” he teased, not even pretending to put a touch of bite in his words.

Quentin turned his laughing eyes back to him as Margo snickered behind him, leaning forward to kiss him and Eliot sighed into the feeling, soaking up all of it, all of them. “There’s so much love here,” Fen said from beside Margo, her voice full of wonder as it came from somewhere around his legs. This bed shouldn’t have been large enough for all of them, but he wasn’t going to question it. His hand reached out, grasping hers, and when he looked over to her, her eyes were shining.

And there was. _So_ much love. More than he’d ever thought he could have, more than he deserved.

He wasn’t going to turn away from it anymore.

And in the meantime, he’d cling to every memory of his family that he had.


End file.
